


For Whom the Bell Tolls

by givemeunicorns



Series: Femmeslash February [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Femslash, Resurrected Laura Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemeunicorns/pseuds/givemeunicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia's been having dreams again. Dreams about wolves and burnt houses and purple flowers and beautiful girls. She's a harbinger of death, she knows that, but does that mean the dead can hear her screaming too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Whom the Bell Tolls

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I have been wanting to do for a while, and since it's femmslash February, officially, her it is! I intent for this to be a lengthier fic, so I will be adding warnings/tags as they become relevant.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own teen wolf and I make no profits from this fic.

Lydia wasn’t sure when the dreams started, though looking back,  she was sure it was before the had finished the Darach.  But they hadn’t really seemed important at the time, the strange half remembered shadows that clung to her mind when she woke.

After, when life started to calm and settle itself into some sense of normalcy again, other things had taken precedence. School was always important but it was more about time commitment than actual effort on Lydia’s part. Then there was her research. She wanted to know as much as possible about what she was and how she had become a banshee, as any sane person would. Then there was Aiden, who was a wholly different sort of problem. She’d never screwed a guy who was so turned on by getting her off. But when it was over, all she could ever see was the blood on his hands and she felt an overpowering need to wash his touch from her skin. Then there was Barrow, and the shadow men, and it seemed the cycle of freaky shit was up and moving again. In wake of all the change, the dreams came more frequently, more vividly, clinging to her mind like broken spider webs when she woke.  

It was always the same. She was standing in forest of leafless trees, looking at a house she felt as if she’d seen before. It called to her, through the fog, with its flawless paint and it’s empty windows. The only sound was the crunching of leaves under her feet and the frantic beating of her heart. She was drawn to the house, like a magnet, but she was also bone-shatteringly afraid of it too. Something had happened in this place, something terrible, and she had the eerie feeling it had happened to her. Dressed only in her thin nightgown, she crossed the frosted lawn, unable to look back over her shoulder and see what waited beyond the woods.

The door to the house opened easily under her hand, and the warmth that caressed her skin when she opened it was too much to turn down. She slipped in, wary and quiet.

Inside the house was nothing but a burnt out husk, a shadow of it’s outside grandeur. Before her was a massive fireplace, and in it something was waiting for her. The creature moved, lifting its massive body onto four powerful legs, shaking the ash from its tawny fur and regarding Lydia with intelligent grey eyes. It was a wolf, bigger than any she’d seen in books or at the zoo, but she wasn’t afraid of it. She knew she should be, but in her bones she knew this creature meant her no harm. It padded towards her across the warped and dusty wooden floor panels, bumped bare thigh with its broad head and made a pleased sound, as it if had been waiting for her. Its fur was soft and warm against her skin and she sighed, feeling safe for the first time in a long, long while. She tangled her fingers in the thick tawny fur of its ruff and it butted its skull against her hand, coaxing her to scratch behind the broad ears.

“Why did you bring me here,” she asked the wolf and it lifted it’s head to look at her.

“Because you’re the only one who can find me,” answered a voice, cool and clear in the silence.

Lydia turned, heart pounding again. Behind her stood a woman she had never seen before.

She was tall and shapely, streaks of dirt marring her fair skin, leaves tangled in her coal black hair. She was naked, despite the cold, and Lydia found herself unable to look away from the soft curve of the woman’s breasts, the hard planes of her muscles, the roll of her hips.  There was a thick, tangled rope of scar tissue that bisected her abdomen, circling her waist like a grotesque serpent. There was another too, a wide patch of glossy, reddened skin that wrapped over her left shoulder, trailed up her throat, as if the flesh had been shredded away and then grown back together. Lydia felt a sudden, fierce urge to reach out and touch the knotted flesh, to fell the texture under her fingers. This woman was beautiful, and wild; terrifyingly so. A creature Lydia couldn’t bring herself to be afraid of, though she knew she probably should be.

The woman stepped forward and Lydia stepped back, glancing back towards the fireplace for her four-legged friend but it was gone.

“I don’t how,” she admitted, with a sudden wave of sadness.

The woman smiled, sad and gentle.

“You do, you just have to remember how.”

A shiver ran through Lydia, memories of purple flowers and boy with blue eyes. She hugged herself, suddenly afraid again.

Then the woman was there, holding Lydia in her arms, hushing her, stroking her hair.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, “I’m not him. I won’t force you. I won’t take it from you.”

“Then why do you keep coming to me,” Lydia choked, feeling the ground begin to spin under her feet.

“Because when I call, you answer.”

**Lydia snapped awake again, screaming.**


End file.
